


i (ori)gami eyes on you

by aiyah



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Crushes, Fluff, Food, Food as a Metaphor for Love, High School Sokka, High School Zuko, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Origami, Requited Unrequited Love, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, my tags are a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25132492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiyah/pseuds/aiyah
Summary: Senbazuru—fold a thousand cranes, and your wish will come true.Zuko thinks the story is a load of nonsense until he finds himself mountain folding in to Sokka’s every move.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 636
Collections: avatar tingz





	i (ori)gami eyes on you

**Author's Note:**

> for foxxy canyon (who keeps me on track AF and gave me this bomb-ass title!)
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> (unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine :>)

On any given day, you can easily find Zuko sitting in the library and doing something most sixteen-year-old boys will never be caught doing.

(No, he’s not smoking weed in the annex. Zuko’s not that type of guy.)

(And _no_ , he’s not kissing a girl the library stacks. Again, Zuko’s not _that_ type of guy.)

No, Zuko’s the type of guy to be surrounded by a cascade of fluttering papers, his thin fingers deftly folding each sheet into a precise unit before assembling them into a wonderfully complex ball of sorts.

(That’s right: he’s into origami.)

Now you might be wondering: what’s a guy like Zuko doing here, folding square pieces of notebook paper into frogs and flowers? Perhaps it might have something to do with all the pressure he faces in school. Being a junior in high school is tough enough, a balancing act dedicated towards AP classes and leadership activities that have most people trying desperately to one-up each other on their resumes. And with added stress of _college applications_ floating menacingly like a stormcloud on the horizon, well, it’s a lot to take in all at once. Between managing his homework and dealing with his father’s near-constant lectures on “ _being the best_ ” and “ _preserving the family honor_ ,” Zuko needs an outlet to vent all this pressure. There’s only so much he can take, and sometimes, he feels like he’s ripping apart at the seams, trying to keep it all together.

So, like any normal sixteen-year-old boy is apt to do, Zuko channels his frustrations into his interests—specifically his passion for an ancient art of paper-folding that requires lots of precision but very little thought. There’s just something about making the same, exact shape that sets his mind at ease, allowing him to find relief during his stressful day. Some might call it tedious and repetitive. Zuko calls it cathartic.

If you ask him about it, he can’t tell you exactly when he started folding origami. His first memory is watching his mother fold delicate cranes at the kitchen table, her face beaming when Zuko asks her to teach him how to fold a crane. _Senbazuru_ , she whispers as she demonstrates each meticulous fold to a captivated Zuko. _If you fold one thousand cranes, the gods will grant you a wish_.

Zuko remembers how he kept the story close to his heart. How he clutched it after the freak house fire that landed his mother in the hospital and gifted him that hideous facial scar. How he repeated it over and over again in his head as he folded tens of hundreds of cranes in all shapes and sizes. _Please get better, please get better, please get better_ , he chanted desperately under his breath, hands trembling as he folded crane after crane.

He made it to nine-hundred-and-ninety before his mother closed her eyes for the last time.

(Zuko doesn’t fold paper cranes anymore.)

He prefers to make modular origami now. There’s something relaxing about the entire process, how he makes multiple units before connecting them into one complete piece. Zuko designs each unit before he starts. He makes fractals and tessellations that fit together tighter than a puzzle piece. Zuko folds his origami during class to escape the humdrum of lectures, fitting the individual units together during lunch and showing his creations to his friends. He carries each masterpiece from class to class. He even gives them away to other people as gifts. Zuko doesn’t keep any of his own origami for himself.

Most days, you’re likely to find Zuko in the library with Toph and Aang. The trio often huddle together in the library during lunch hour in an origami club of sorts. Toph likes to create origami _shuriken_ , beautiful throwing stars that lack the sharpness of the actual weapon put still serve their original purpose to intimidate others. (They’re great for throwing at the heads of oblivious people, Toph gleefully informs a horrified Zuko one day.) Aang is always making _kusudama_ flowers using bits and pieces of tape he borrows from the library supply cabinet. (Zuko claims that real modular origami doesn’t require adhesives, but hey, semantics.) And then there’s Zuko, with his buckyballs and his Froebel stars, struggling to transform his inner turmoil into something more structured.

(He’s not quite sure if it’s working.)

\- ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ -

There’s a strange guy sitting in Zuko’s seat at the library.

(Well, it’s not _his_ seat, per se, but Zuko has practically commandeered it since day one. The chair isn’t rigid—and it has a nice cushion that hasn’t collapsed quite yet—so it’s perfect for alleviating whatever early-onset back pain he’s been developing from hunching over in class to take notes.)

“Hey,” Zuko waves a hand in front of the stranger’s face. “You’re sitting in my seat.”

The stranger looks up at him, blue eyes tinged with slight annoyance. Zuko sneaks a glance at the book the stranger is reading. It looks like a comic book, the words _Adventures of the Blue Spirit_ emblazoned on the cover. “Finders keepers.”

“This is my seat,” Zuko repeats. He can feel a twinge of a headache setting in, and that’s the last thing he wants to deal with at this moment. “You should go somewhere else.”

The stranger closes his book and crosses his arms. “Make me.”

For a few minutes, they’re staring daggers at each other, daring the other to make a move. It isn’t until Aang returns from the bathroom and asks them what they’re doing that Zuko finally tears his eyes away to look anywhere, anywhere but back in the stranger’s face.

This is how Zuko meets Sokka for the first time.

Sokka, as it turns out, is also an eternally-suffering junior; his younger sister happens to be best friends with Aang. The story goes that Sokka saw Aang folding a flower in class and, thinking it looked super cool, asked Aang if he could teach him how to make one. Aang, in his infinite wisdom, tells him to come to the library during lunch because _my friend is hella good at origami so he can teach you how to make it!_ , which is how Zuko discovers Sokka sitting in his seat in the first place. When Zuko shows him how to make a _kusudama_ petal, Sokka’s face lights up in amazement.

“That’s hella cool, dude,” he breathes quietly as he fiddles with the petal in between his fingers, eyes widening. “You gotta show me more.”

“Sure,” Zuko nods, and he folds another four petals and glues them together to create a single blossom. The look on Sokka’s face when he picks up the flower sends a ripple down Zuko’s spine that lodges itself in his stomach.

It begins with a tentative friendship in the library, and just like that, Zuko starts to see Sokka _everywhere._

Initial misunderstandings aside, Sokka is a very genuine and kindhearted person, all wrapped up with a devil-may-care attitude and tied off with a somewhat reckless streak. In school, he definitely stands out from the crowd, a sleek longboard strapped to the front of his backpack and his dark hair bobbing in a perpetual wolftail.

He’s smart as hell, too; Zuko realizes this when he figures out that they’re both in the same Calc AB and Gov classes. Though Sokka may sit in the back of the classroom, the guy pays attention and actually asks questions when the concepts get tough. Zuko learns how Sokka is equally quick to finish his work and to help other students when they get lost. When Zuko gets stuck on a particularly difficult integral problem and asks him for help, Sokka eagerly scribbles out his thought process on a piece of paper, walking through it step-by-step. Zuko’s surprised when Sokka doesn’t look at him with taunting eyes or toss out snide comments, something that Zuko has grown accustomed to over the years whenever he turns to his own father or his own sister for help.

“I should know how to do this already,” Zuko grits his teeth and presses his pencil into his notebook a bit harder than he means to. “I hate integration by parts.”

“Dude, no one said calc was easy,” Sokka says, head leaning against his hand as he watches his friend struggle through another problem. “But you gotta push through it.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Zuko mutters. “You finish your work before everyone else.”

“Well, yeah,” Sokka replies. “But just ‘cuz I’m good at calc doesn’t mean I’m good at everything, y’know? Like, I _suuuuuck_ at Gov.”

(Zuko happens to excel at civics and government, so when their Gov teacher announces a new group project and Sokka turns to him with pleading eyes, he’s already outlining the structure for their presentation. It’s the least he can do for Sokka, really.)

\- ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ -

Sokka’s an earnest student both inside and outside the classroom, and he watches closely as Zuko shows him each fold that goes into making one origami _shuriken_ blade. It’s become a daily habit now: Zuko makes origami, and Sokka asks him a plethora of questions about everything. They’re sitting in the library after school. Sokka’s waiting for Katara and Aang to finish up the calligraphy club, and Zuko’s just trying to avoid going home. His father may be on a business trip but he still makes his presence felt at the house, so Zuko spends as much time outside as possible. At the very least, he can hang out with Sokka.

Zuko notices how Sokka’s hands fumble through his first attempt at the _shuriken_ , fingers shaking while he presses down on each fold.

“This is hard,” Sokka declares after his sixth attempt, wrinkling his nose in annoyance. “Is there anything easier you can teach me?”

“I didn’t peg you for someone who would give up this easily,” Zuko replies, eyes focused on his own work. He’s making a white lotus _kusudama_ now, teasing out each individual flowerbud before sliding another piece in place with a satisfying slip. Lotuses are his uncle’s favorite flower, and he can’t wait to finish this particular one to give it to him.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Sokka’s tongue is as sharp as his wit.

“No, really.” Zuko sets down his half-finished _kusudama_ and rubs his eyes. He blames the almost-all-nighter he took the night before to finish up his calc homework. “Origami isn’t something you learn in a day. It takes practice.”

“Dude, I just wanna be able to make something cool, yeah? Are you sure there isn’t anything else you could possibly teach me? Maybe something that only needs one piece of paper?”

Zuko hasn’t folded single-sheet origami in ages, but one look into Sokka’s pleading eyes has him folding over like a Sonobe unit. He pulls out a fresh pad of pink Post-It notes and pulls off a single sheet, handing it to Sokka before peeling off another for himself. “Okay, fine. What do you want to learn?”

“Ooh, do you know how to fold a crane? Katara was showing me one, and I thought it was pretty cool.”

The sheet flutters to the ground from Zuko’s shaking fingers, and he hastily picks it up before smoothing it out on the table. He hasn’t thought about paper cranes in many years, not since the hospital, not since the last nine-hundred-and-ninety birds that never flew. His heart is still aching, the pain a thin wound on his heart that reflects the scar on his face. There’s a prickly feeling behind his aching eyes, and Zuko curses himself for being so easy to crack.

Sokka seems to sense that something’s up, and he looks worriedly at Zuko. “Hey, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Zuko manages to croak out, hands trembling as he picks up the paper. “Yeah, I’ll show you, I guess.”

“No way. You look like you’re about to pass out.” Sokka plucks the paper from Zuko’s hands. “You don’t have to show me if you don’t wanna.”

“But I do,” and Zuko takes the paper back and folds it into a triangle. Each step washes over him with vivid memories, and he finds himself telling Sokka about _senbazuru_ , about how one thousand cranes will grant the maker any one wish. He doesn’t mention his mother or the accident, really, because Sokka doesn’t need to know how fucked up Zuko’s personal life really is.

(That, and Zuko’s scared to see what Sokka’s reaction is to the whole story. It’s not everyday that someone overshares their personal life history to their friend, no matter how close that friend is to them.)

When Zuko finishes explaining the steps, he places the crane on the table. Sokka has somehow managed to follow every direction and is now cupping his own crane in his palm. It’s a bit crooked and uneven, but Zuko knows that, with practice, Sokka’s going to be making perfect cranes in no time.

Sokka stares reverently at Zuko’s crane before looking back at his own. “Wow,” he whispers. “It’s beautiful.”

Zuko feels a blush itching across his ears. “Thanks.”

“So is that story you told me actually true?”

“I’m not sure,” Zuko shrugs.

“Ever thought of trying it out?” Sokka asks.

“Not particularly,” Zuko replies. _I didn’t finish making them before it was too late_ , he thinks to himself, not that it really mattered all that much.

“That’s it!” Sokka says. “I’m gonna finish a thousand cranes by the end of the semester, and I’m gonna wish on it.”

“That’s very ambitious of you.” Zuko can’t help but smile at Sokka’s enthusiasm.

“It’s just, like, such a romantic story.” Sokka juggles his crane from one hand to another. “I bet Katara’ll get a kick out of that. And speaking of the devil—”

Katara and Aang are walking towards them with identical sketchbooks under their arms. “Look who finally showed up.”

When Zuko finally leaves the library and walks home, he wonders if he, too, should try folding _senbazuru_ again. He doesn’t really have a wish in mind—maybe he could wish for better grades in calc? Or a more normal home life? Or even for something good to actually happen?

(Nah—he already has Sokka to help. He’ll wish for Sokka to accomplish his goal. Now wouldn’t that be ironic, a guy folding one thousand cranes to wish for another guy to finish _his_ one thousand cranes.)

\- ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ -

It’s lunchtime, and Zuko’s sitting in the library again. He’s just about finished with folding a pale yellow crane when he spies Sokka bounding towards him, a plastic bag in one hand and his longboard in the other. Zuko quickly slips the crane into a Ziploc bag hidden in between his notebooks.

Okay, fine. So maybe Zuko has given into the temptation of _senbazuru_. And maybe he’s folded around one-hundred cranes within the first week. And _maybe_ he’s been depleting the seemingly neverending supply of Post-It notes from the library stock. (Zuko makes a mental note to buy some later to restock; he’s not about to add _kleptomaniac_ to his list of extracurriculars.)

Point is, Zuko finds himself falling down into the paper crane hole before he even notices, and he doesn’t want to back out now on account of his pride. (That, and he really wants to do this for Sokka.) Zuko wants to keep it a secret, to surprise Sokka with them when he finishes. The thought of Sokka’s inevitable smile when he receives the gift is enough to motivate Zuko through the process.

(He’s still making his modular origami, of course. It’s just taking longer to assemble each piece. Iroh enjoyed the lotus _kusudama_ , so now Zuko’s working on making a _panda lily_ one. He’s using black-edged _washi_ paper, the special kind that he buys in the bookstore located inside the local Japanese grocery store. _Washi_ is expensive, but then again, Zuko will do anything for his uncle.)

“Whatcha doin’?” Sokka drops the bag on the table. The smell of citrus and hot sauce permeates the air, and Zuko feels his stomach grumbling. _Probably shouldn’t have skipped out on breakfast today_ , his sister’s nasally voice chimes in his head. Azula takes literally any chance she can get to criticize her older brother.

“Nothing,” Zuko says. “You should probably take the food outside, though. I don’t think Macmu-Ling is going to be happy if you eat here.”

And as if she was summoned, the head librarian sits ramrod straight at the library counter and glares at the two boys, shooing them towards the door with a silent _Get Out!_ on her lips. Sighing, Zuko slings his backpack over his shoulder and ushers Sokka out of the building and into the brisk March air. The sun peeks out from behind a set of clouds, and the trees shake their budding branches in time to the wind.

Zuko and Sokka find a nice, shaded patch of grass to sit on. There’s a bit of a chill, and Zuko wraps his hands around his arms, trying not to shiver. It’s his own fault that he left his jacket in his locker, but he’s already outside now, and he doesn’t want to waste time going back in.

“You cold?” Sokka catches on to Zuko’s poor attempts at hiding his shuddering.

“A little?”

Zuko watches as Sokka shrugs off his denim jacket and tucks it around the other boy’s shoulders without a second thought.

“Keep it,” Sokka smiles. “I don’t get cold that easily.”

Heart stuttering, Zuko wraps the jacket around him. The smell of saltwater breeze and cedar pine hugs him in a warm embrace. A blush tinges Zuko’s nose; he blames the weather.

Beside him, Sokka eagerly opens up the takeout boxes and sniffs both of them before handing one to Zuko. “Here ya go!”

The box is filled with lemon pepper chicken wings, bits of black pepper and yellow peel dotting the surface of each crispy wing. “But I didn’t—”

“Hey now, a simple ‘thank you’ is enough.” Sokka’s digging into his own hot wings with gusto, sauce smeared all over his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you eat at lunchtime.”

“I do,” Zuko protests weakly. (Well, if an apple and a bag of chips counts as a lunch, anyways. He’s usually too busy folding _kusudama_ to pay attention to his appetite. Zuko doesn’t really eat that much in the first place.)

“Eat up,” Sokka motions towards the food with a half-eaten wing. “Don’t let it get cold. I even skipped half of sectionals to get this.”

Zuko takes a tentative bite, allowing the zing of lemon and spice to whiz around his tongue. The crispy skin crunches against his teeth with each bite.

“Good, isn’t it?” Sokka’s on his fourth wing already. “I didn’t know what kinda wings you liked, so I just got lemon pepper for you.”

“It’s delicious.” Zuko picks up another wing and crunches the tendon in between his teeth to pull out a bone. “Thank you, Sokka.”

“Dude, it’s no biggie. I gotta watch out for my friends, too.”

 _Friends_. The word bounces around on Zuko’s tongue and tumbles down his throat. He coughs, hoping that Sokka doesn’t notice.

“So how’s your project going?” Zuko changes the subject.

“What project?”

“Your _senbazuru_? The thousand cranes?”

“Oh!” Sokka perks up in realization. “Yeah, it’s going. I think I’ve made like eight of them already? They’re actually kinda hard to make.”

“Eight is better than none.” Zuko wipes his lips with a napkin.

“Yeah, that’s true. But I’m hoping to get it done real soon!” Sokka punches the air.

“Do you have a wish in mind?”

“Kinda?” Sokka scratches his head. “I mean, there’s really no way to tell if the story is real unless my wish comes true, right?”

“Makes sense,” Zuko says.

They finish their food in relative silence, punctuated by the occasional chirps of a nearby sparrow perched atop the utility pole. Zuko remembers how Sokka doesn’t actually _say_ what his wish is, and he briefly ponders if he should ask before he scrubs the idea from his head. He has a feeling Sokka will tell him when the time is right.

\- ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ -

Zuko’s head hurts. He has five more calc problems to work through, but still can’t seem to understand how Euler’s method works. Glancing up at the clock, Zuko realizes that it’s already past midnight; he’s going to be pulling an all-nighter, at this rate.

Suddenly, he hears a light tap on the window that startles him out of his daze. _What_? Baffled, Zuko walks towards the window and looks around. In the hazy light of the full moon, he can see someone standing in his yard, waving their arms wildly at him. The hair looks startlingly familiar—

 _Sokka_?

“What’re you doing here?” Zuko hisses quietly as he opens the window and leans downwards. He’s not about to wake his father up for something as silly as a friend visiting in the middle of the night and risk yet another lecture.

“Glad I got the right room,” Sokka says by way of greeting. “I was scared that I was gonna wake your dad up or something.”

“Sokka, it’s past midnight.”

“Yeah, and I’m kinda craving Sonic right now.”

“Sonic?” Zuko wrinkles his forehead in confusion, his mind conjuring up images from a video game. “You’re craving a blue hedgehog?”

“ _Oh my spirits_. Are you serious?” Sokka sounds like he’s on the verge of screaming. “Have you _never_ been to a Sonic before?”

“No?”

“I can’t even begin to tell—hold on, that settles it. We’re going.”

“We’re going to a Sonic. At midnight.”

“I know, I know, it’s weird,” Sokka continues. “But everyone’s asleep and I didn’t know who else to ask besides you to come along.”

“You could’ve texted me,” Zuko says dryly.

“Well, yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

Sometimes, Zuko still doesn’t understand Sokka’s logic.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

“I’ll meet you out front.” Zuko sighs as he pulls on a red sweatshirt before tiptoeing downstairs, avoiding the creaky part of the hallway that might wake his father or his sister. (Azula tends to be a light sleeper.) He pads through the kitchen and eases the side door shut behind him, making his way through the backyard and past the fence towards Sokka.

“You ready?” Sokka twirls his car keys around a finger. “I parked down the street just in case.”

Zuko nods, and the two of them walk towards Sokka’s car. Twenty minutes later and they’ve pulled into an empty spot at Sonic, Zuko poking a straw into his Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Blast and swirling it around, watching the cookie dough pieces sink into his shake.

“That’s Katara’s favorite flavor,” Sokka remarks as he sticks a spoon into his own rainbow of a shake, studded with Oreo pieces and M&M’s and topped with a gargantuan whorl of whipped cream, a cherry perched on top.

“It tastes quite delicious,” Zuko says after a cautious first bite. The taste of smooth vanilla and fluffy cookie dough is something he’s never really experienced before, and it sends shivers through his entire body.

“Bro, you gotta try this with _fries_ ,” Sokka grins, handing Zuko a paper carton of hot, crispy fries. “It’s, like, literally a harmonic convergence in food form.”

And as Zuko dips a piping hot fry into his shake and taking a bite, he figures that this is what a perfect match tastes like, all salty-sweet melding on his tongue. Sokka’s right—shakes and fries are, indeed, a match made in the spirit realm.

(Zuko wonders if this is what true happiness tastes like.)

\- ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ -

One day, Sokka comes to lunchtime origami with a girl by his side.

Zuko almost drops his _kusudama_ in surprise. He’s only recently come to terms with the fact that maybe—just maybe—he might have a crush on his (best) friend. Having a crush on Sokka is easily the scariest thing Zuko has experienced in his sixteen years. He’s briefly entertained the idea of a _relationship_ , and that’s the most terrifying part of all. _Relationship_ isn’t the best word to describe the Huo household. Zuko and his father have an _understanding_. Zuko and his sister, Azula, have a _truce_. _Relationship_ rolls off Zuko’s tongue, tumbling around his teeth and lingering on his tongue. It feels alien, unnatural, but when he thinks about Sokka, the word settles in just right.

So imagine Zuko’s surprise when he sees a girl walking next to Sokka as they make their way towards the table. The butterflies in Zuko’s stomach are fluttering frantically now, threatening to pour out from his mouth and share his little secret with the world.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” the girl exclaims. “I’m Yue. It’s so nice to meet you!”

“Zuko. And the pleasure’s all mine,” Zuko says, holding out his hand.

“So you’re the guy that Sokka’s been helping out with math!” Yue continues, and Zuko suddenly feels very uncomfortable. He isn’t used to loud, peppy voices, and Yue is as bubbly as they come.

“He’s also the guy saving my ass in Gov,” Sokka chimes in, clapping a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. “It’s a mutually beneficial relationship, y’know.”

( _Relationship_. There’s that word again.)

So it turns out that Yue’s a senior, a beautiful girl with lovely blue eyes and long platinum hair that floats around her face in soft ringlets. She's an honor roll student, captain of the varsity cheerleading team, and _Sokka’s crush_. (Well, according to Katara at least, who whispers the information conspiratorially in Zuko’s ear.) The last part leaves a bitter taste in Zuko’s mouth that doesn’t go away, no matter how hard he tries to wash it down with water.

Zuko wants to hate her for barging in on whatever he and Sokka have going on, but the thought of _Sokka’s just your really, really good friend_ hangs around him like a little rain cloud. Honestly, he has nothing personal against Yue—this is his first time meeting her, of course—yet Zuko still feels something prickling inside him. He wishes that he was the one hanging around with Sokka, the one with Sokka’s attention—the one that Sokka’s crushing on.

( _You’re jealous of her_ , his brain taunts him in Azula’s voice, and that’s basically the worst thing he can think of.)

And that’s the thing. Sokka is loud and gregarious and _fun_ —basically, the exact opposite of Zuko. If Zuko thinks that Sokka’s one of the most stunning people he’s ever met, then there’s bound to be other people who think about Sokka in the same way. And sitting there, watching Sokka and Yue chat excitedly about their class, has Zuko sinking into his seat by the second.

(It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what Sokka’s wish is.)

Zuko can almost _hear_ the paper cranes fluttering around inside his backpack. He’s up to nine-hundred-and-thirteen now, all hidden away in the cracks of his binders and stashed beneath his assignments in his backpack. His backpack feels heavy with the weight of everything—of his secret, of his thoughts, of his _feelings_.

A girlish laugh breaks Zuko out of his reverie. He looks towards Sokka, only to see the boy tucking a _kusudama_ flower behind Yue’s ear, both of them giggling. Suddenly, Zuko’s face is itching something fierce.

“He’s been going after her for a while,” Aang says, spinning a ballpoint pen in between his fingers. “I think Sokka’s carried a torch for her since last year.”

Zuko can’t breathe. His heart splinters and his fingers tighten, and the prickle of pain cascades through his body. He hastily grabs his backpack and his _kusudama_ , muttering an excuse about going to the bathroom before he bolts out of the library and up the stairs.

Zuko hides in a bathroom stall for a while, stomach curdling in anguish. It’s not until he gets a text from Sokka asking him why he left that Zuko finally lets out a breath he didn’t remember holding. His fingers fumble over the keyboard with a flimsy excuse about not feeling good, and it’s true. Zuko hates feeling weak, and now, he feels like he’s powerless to stop the wave of emotions crashing over him.

If this is what being in love feels like, then Zuko wants nothing to do with it—nothing to do with it, at all.

\- ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ -

[ _come to the park after school. we need to talk. - s_ ]

“What's this?” Zuko repeats the words silently in his head as he stares down at the slip of paper.

“I dunno. Sokka just told me to give it to you,” Aang shrugs.

Zuko nods his thanks and folds the paper into a neat square and shoves it into his pocket. “I have to go to class. Thanks for the note.”

“No problem.”

Avoiding Sokka had been surprisingly easy. Zuko figures that if they’ve never met until junior year, then it shouldn’t be that hard to hide from the guy except for the classes they share. He ignores all of Sokka’s texts until the boy stops texting him. In class, Zuko makes a point to sit at the edge of the room, placing his backpack on the seat next to him so no one will sit there. He keeps his head down during calc and goes up to ask the teacher for clarifications. Gov is the hardest—he and Sokka are in the same group, still—but Zuko makes every effort to grit his teeth and smile at him. Gradually, the pain ebbs into a dull ache that thumps in his chest.

The note throws Zuko for a loop. He and Sokka haven’t actually talked in weeks, and he’s surprised that Sokka’s even reaching out now. The words float in Zuko’s head as he walks towards physics. Why does Sokka want to talk to him now? Shouldn’t he be hanging out with Yue? Has he finished making his cranes for her?

The thoughts linger around throughout the rest of the school day. When the bell rings, Zuko meanders towards the park, his heart lodged in his throat. He still has no idea why Sokka wants to meet up after all this time.

Zuko arrives at the park and walks up the hill, finding a place to sit on a bench. He notices that Sokka hasn’t arrived, so he pulls out a Ziploc bag and opens it, pulling out one last sheet of sea-blue paper etched with silver.

(And yes. Zuko’s still making the cranes for Sokka. He’s up to nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine now, and all he needs is one more crane to complete his _senbazuru_. Huos always keep their promises, both big and small, and Zuko feels like he owes it to Sokka to finish his gift.)

Zuko’s fingers tremble as he makes the final folds, creasing down the crane’s head into a delicate beak and smoothing everything out with his palm so it all holds together. He holds the paper crane up to the sun and looks at how the light bounces off the glossy wings, the curved beak. It’s not his best crane, by far, but Zuko feels some sort of attachment towards this delicate piece of folded paper.

A tanned hand plucks the crane from his grip, and Zuko jumps when he realizes that Sokka is sliding into the seat next to him with a cardboard box in his lap.

“Nice crane.” Sokka’s voice cracks. He hands the tiny bird back to Zuko.

“Thanks.” Zuko gently places the crane inside the pocket of his flannel.

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding me for the past week?”

“No?”

“Y’know,” Sokka begins, blue eyes fixed on Zuko’s golden ones. “I thought it was kinda weird when you stopped asking me for calc help. And then I got worried when you stopped talking to me. And then I got mad when you ignored all of my texts, all the times I was trying to get in touch with you to figure out what was going on.”

“Wait—”

“And then I come to find out that you’re doing just fine, and that makes me happy and all, but—” Sokka took a breath, “I just wanted you to let me know that you were okay. And I’m sorry if I did anything to make you upset, and, um, yeah.”

Zuko can do nothing but stare at him with wide eyes.

“So, um, this is for you,” Sokka says, thrusting the box towards Zuko. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a crimson paper crane, pressing it into Zuko’s hand. “Um, you can look at this later, if you wanna. I guess I just wanted you to be happy.”

Then Sokka stands up and walks away, Zuko staring at him. _What in the name of Hei Bai just happened?_ He’s stuck between sitting on the bench or chasing after his crush, mind whirling in turmoil at his dilemma.

 _Hold on_. Zuko opens up the box and gasps as a herd of paper cranes tumble out. Some are made from plain printer paper, while others carry the distinct lines torn out of a notebook. Some of the cranes are huge, and others are small, with messy wings and lopsided beaks that are still distinguishable from each other.

 _He did this all for you_ , Zuko thinks. He opens his hand and stares down at the tiny red crane, all neatly folded and pressed. Zuko’s heart beats an erratic staccato as he unfolds the crane. There’s a small heart drawn on the inside and a hasty scrawl of words underneath.

[i _wish he knew he was loved_.]

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Zuko sprints down the hill without a second thought, paper cranes flying everywhere.

“Sokka!” he screams. “Sokka, come back!”

And Sokka stops walking and he’s turning around, and Zuko somehow overestimates just how fast he’s running because he hits Sokka with a soft _whump_ , the two of them tumbling down the hill.

“Geez, don’t scare me like that,” Sokka murmurs when they finally come to a stop. His arms wrap around Zuko in a protective grasp, and all Zuko can smell is sea air and salt.

“Sokka,” Zuko whispers. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m a what?”

“You’re an idiot,” Zuko repeats, and he untangles himself from Sokka’s grasp to reach into his backpack, pulling out the secret he’s been keeping.

Paper cranes flutter in the air around them, their tiny wings suspended in the cool afternoon breeze. Sokka’s laughing, a deep rumble that echoes around the empty park that has Zuko chuckling as well. Zuko thinks the entire thing is absurd, how he’s been worrying himself to death over nothing because Sokka—Sokka cares.

So Zuko leans forward and cradles Sokka’s head in his hands, pulling him into a soft kiss that tastes like salt and smoke and mint and something more, and Sokka’s kissing back, his hands wrapping around Zuko’s waist in a tight hug that leaves Zuko gasping for air.

“That was—”

“— _pretty freaking awesome_ ,” Sokka finishes, before kissing Zuko again, their foreheads bumping against each other.

(Pretty freaking awesome. Sounds about right.)

\- ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ -

They spend the next half-hour chasing down paper cranes. The stupid birds have somehow managed to find their way into every single bush and tree in the park, and Zuko’s smile widens as he watches Sokka attempt to pull one out from a particularly tall oak.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since forever,” Sokka confesses when he finally jumps out of the tree, eyes sparkling.

“Do what?” Zuko asks. He yelps when Sokka bends him over in a dip and presses an enthusiastic kiss on the startled boy.

“Kiss you, you dummy.” Sokka lifts him back up and the two of them walk towards the entrance of the park.

“Really?”

“You have no freaking clue the things you do to me, Zuko Huo,” Sokka murmurs, pulling Zuko to his side and kissing his forehead.

“I might have _some_ idea,” Zuko says, grinning as he tugs on his boyfriend’s wolftail.

“Hey!”

**Author's Note:**

> so i make a crap ton of origami and this is what happened™
> 
> as always, feel free to leave a kudo/comment if you want to see more!


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